


Beat Up Those Demons

by DracoWillHearAboutThis



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Break Up, Eliot's Post-Monster Recovery, Getting Back Together, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Margo getting shit done, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 21:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWillHearAboutThis/pseuds/DracoWillHearAboutThis
Summary: Leave it to Margo to work things out and make sure they get fixed.





	Beat Up Those Demons

**Author's Note:**

> My dear readers,  
this is my first story for The Magicians fandom, and I hope it isn't a complete dung bomb *hides* I wrote this when I had really bad day last week and I'd just finished season 4, so this was the outcome. Basically Quentin and Eliot have pushed me into hell and I can't see myself crawling out anytime soon, so here I am, settling in to stay. This fic is a completely self-indulgent feelings dump and I hope you can take any enjoyment away from it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to post it, at first, but decided to go ahead anyway. So please be gentle with me.  
Also, this is only sluggishly proof-read. I'm still working my week of hell and am super tired rn, but I proof-read it on the train and think it should be mostly error-free. Let's hope.  


Eliot had no idea how long he'd been unaware of the world. He knew he’d closed his eyes to Margo’s frantic voice calling his name, which had been soothing in a way that no one but him would ever be able to understand. Still, he had tried to stay conscious, tried to crane his neck for Quentin’s messy hair and too earnest eyes, but exhaustion and pain had quickly pulled him under.

When he finally woke again, it felt like his whole body was on fire with pain that was radiating from his guts, so intense that he was unable to catch his breath. He tore his eyes open, but his surroundings were too sharp, too bright, so unlike the universe his own head had confined him to for such a long time. He made pained, choking noises, and then there was a gentle hand in his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. 

“Eliot,” Quentin breathed, and his voice was rough, raw, as if his vocal cords were rubbing against sandpaper. “Shit, El, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Alice, get Lipson, and Margo! I swear the moment she leaves his side -”

But none of Quentin’s anguished babbling registered with Eliot, apart from the fact that the other boy was  _ there _ , touching him, talking to him, and he wished his body would stop spasming just for a moment to allow him to reciprocate.

Eliot somehow found the strength and focus to fist a hand in Quentin’s hoodie, and wide, brown eyes found his, alarmed and inquisitive. 

“Q,” Eliot brought out, pushing it past the pain, and something flickered in Quentin’s eyes, making his other hand come up to cup Eliot’s cheek.

“It’s okay, El,” he whispered. “You’ve probably run out of painkillers. Lipson will be right here to set you up with some more.”

Eliot shook his head. He wasn’t worried about the pain, as overwhelming as it was. He finally had Quentin in front of him, and he had promised himself - had sworn - 

“Eliot!” Margo called, rushing into the room and appearing at his other side, her hand immediately finding the one he had loosely tangled in his sheets. “Fuck, what’s wrong with him?! Why is he in so much pain?!”

“Because the wound is part magical,” Lipson provided, with a clipped tone that showed how little patience she had with them. “Since we still can’t use magic to heal him, though, I’m afraid -”

“How is the library still holding onto their reserves?!” Margo interrupted her, fuming. “Their megalomaniac chief has been blown to pieces, thanks to Quentin Potter over there, so you’d think -”

“Zelda is working on it,” Alice interrupted them, suddenly coming up next to Q, reaching out to run a soothing hand over his shoulder. Eliot’s eyes flashed to Quentin’s, but he wasn’t looking at him. The palm that had been cupping Eliot’s cheek had fallen to his side and nervous fingers were now twiddling with the seam of his hoodie. “Give her a couple of days -”

“Eliot’s in pain  _ now!”  _ Margo snapped. “We don’t  _ have  _ a couple of days! But who am I talking to, as long as it doesn’t involve Quentin or the fate of all magic  _ you  _ wouldn’t care, now would you, Alice?!”

“Now, that’s not fair, Margo,” Quentin muttered, frowning. “You know we couldn’t have done any of this without her.”

“Oh, get a room,” Margo hissed, turning back to Lipson to turn her frustration on her, and Eliot thought,  _ Oh.  _

His eyes flitted to the way Alice’s hand rested on Quentin’s shoulder, in a gesture so familiar, so intimate that he hadn’t seen it in years, not since - 

Eliot’s shaking fingers loosened around Quentin’s hoodie. It made Quentin’s eyes find him again. 

“El?” he whispered, gentle fingers stroking through his hair. “Are you -”

But Eliot closed his eyes as another wave of pain hit him. Margo was shouting, and there was a flurry of movement in the room. 

Eliot knew nothing afterwards.

The next time he woke up, Margo was alone with him. She looked tired and wrung out, her messy curls pulled up in a makeshift bun. 

“Hey,” she muttered softly, one finger tracing his cheekbone. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty high,” Eliot drawled, his throat dry and his voice sounding unlike his own. “But without the euphoria.”

“The library finally loosened their hold on the magic supply,” Margo rolled her eyes. “You’re drugged up to your eyeballs on healing magic.”

“Well, thank fuck,” Eliot sighed. “I don’t really care to repeat last time.” Margo didn’t say anything, but her fingers were still tracing his face and her expression was haunted. “Where’s Q?” Eliot asked, hesitantly.

“At Kady’s apartment with everyone,” Margo shrugged. “We’re sort of all living there at the moment, with Kady as our sugar mama.” 

“Wow,” Eliot said. “Sounds like the girl is going places.”

“You have no idea,” Margo snorted. “You missed quite some shit while you were gone, darling.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to realise that,” Eliot muttered, something dark and painful settling in his stomach despite the numbness the magic had forced upon him. “Quentin and Alice are back together?”

“Yeah,” Margo shrugged. “Not sure how or when, don’t ask. Last thing I knew, he couldn’t stand to look at her, and then I was banished from Fillory and she was suddenly everywhere and then my boyfriend had been turned into a fish and they were snogging all over the place. Quite insensitive of them,” she noted drily, but when the silence stretched on between them, she added: “Okay, that was a shitload of information about what happened in  _ my _ life while you were gone, and you didn’t even blink. Are you still listening, El?”

“Mhm?” Eliot muttered, blinking.

“Okay,” Margo said slowly, staring at him. “Spill. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Eliot shrugged, but even to his own ears, his voice sounded lifeless.

“No,” Margo shook her head. “I’ll have none of that. You can stuff your ‘nothing’s right up your cute little ass because I’m not going to listen to that bullshit, El. I almost lost you. I thought I’d  _ already _ lost you. And now that I have you back, I’m going to damn well be there for you, if you want me to be or not.” Eliot just looked at her, feeling lost in the face of her fierce protectiveness, and she reached up to run gentle fingers through his hair. “I love you, you gigantic pain in the ass,” she breathed, bestowing him with a tearful smile. “And if you’re hurting, I want you to talk to me. Even if I can’t help. No more shutting me out.”

“You can’t help,” Eliot warned, feeling his throat burn at the admission to how badly he had fucked this up.

“So what,” Margo shrugged. “I’ll beat up your inner demons until they disappear. I’ll find a way.”

Eliot couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly at that. “You would,” he breathed.

“See,” she nodded. “So, out with it.”

Eliot took a slow breath. And another. Something about voicing his feelings for Quentin out loud seemed like such an insurmountable obstacle, especially now that he knew that Quentin had chosen Alice. 

“Okay,” Margo said, watching him. “Let me retrace our conversation. We talked about Kady, and then we talked about Quentin and Alice, and then you disappeared into your own head, never to be seen again. What should I take away from that? Do you want me to get Quentin for you?”

“No,” Eliot protested, too quickly, and Margo’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Ah,” she muttered, very softly, and now she looked concerned. “Well, fuck a duck. Q?” When Eliot still didn’t speak, she continued: “I know I was busy being a King and all, but when exactly did that happen? I thought you were as relationship-phobic as me, bitch.”

“Didn’t you say something about a boyfriend,” Eliot muttered evasively.

“So you  _ were _ listening,” she glared, unimpressed. “Whatever. We’re not talking about me boning Hoberman. We’re talking about you boning Alice’s boyfriend.  _ Again. _ ”

“Okay, this is  _ not  _ what is happening!” Eliot protested, immediately defensive. “There’s no boning going on.”

“But you wished there was,” Margo deadpanned. When Eliot stayed silent, she cursed. “Well,” she sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been very touchy-feely with each other. I always thought Q was shaping up to become something like a third member to our duo, but I guess it was something else entirely, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not like I planned for this to happen,” Eliot muttered. “I didn’t see it coming, either.”

“So when  _ did _ it happen?” Margo demanded. “And  _ how? _ Because now that I think about it, Quentin has been extremely Mama Lion about your body while you were possessed, and I didn’t question it back then because I was too relieved to have someone as determined to keep you safe and get you back as I was, but now -”

“Nothing actually happened,” Eliot pointed out, in a small voice. “Not in this timeline, at least.”

Margo stared at him for a long moment, frowning. “I’m not sure which technicalities we are talking here,” she mused, “but if it was your bodies and you can remember it, I’m pretty sure it counts as ‘happened’. So unless you’re somehow talking Eliot and Quentin 23, which I find hard to believe -”

“God, no,” Eliot shook his head. “No, it’s… do you remember that time Jane Chatwin sent you to dick up her dead body?”

“Ugh, yeah,” she said, making a face. “I came just in time before you -” Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “You remember what happened in the timeline that got erased!” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Eliot nodded, a little miserably. “We both do.”

“Motherfucking -” she muttered, staring at him. “What happened?!”

Eliot laughed, rather bitterly, then winced. That hurt his wound even through the spells. 

“Well, long story short, we fell in love,” he told her, his voice thin as the memories of a better, simpler life flashed through his mind, picture for agonising picture. “We had a family, and it was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Oh, El,” she breathed, her deer eyes too bright for Eliot to look at directly.

“He asked me to be with him, right after we remembered,” Eliot continued, the truth bursting out of him now that he started. “But I was a coward. It felt too real, too threatening to everything I’d known. So I stopped it. I rejected him, and ruined things.” Eliot took a shaky breath, closing his eyes. He was grateful that Margo didn’t interfere with his confession. He wouldn’t have been able to stand her inquiries now. “But while I was stuck in my own mind… I just… I regretted it so much. When I tried to break free, I had to do it by facing my most traumatic, shameful memory, and it turned out to be the moment I rejected him. I mean, imagine that! You know all the shit I’ve done better than anyone, and yet… This haunted me. I just… I swore to myself that, once I got out of there, I would tell him. I would apologise and make it right.”

“Then why don’t you?” Margo whispered. 

“You know why!” Eliot called, his voice breaking at the last syllable. “He’s back with Alice!”

“Fuck Alice!” Margo snapped. “Alice and Quentin  _ never _ worked! So he crawled back into her arms when he was upset and there was a crisis going on and he thought you didn’t love him back! We’ve always known Q isn’t the most stable. I don’t think it actually means as much as you make it out to be.”

“He always wanted Alice back!” Eliot snapped. “Don’t pretend like it’s not true! What kind of a friend would I be to get in between when he finally manages it, especially after he protected my body from the Monster for almost a year?”

“So lying to him is the better option?” she challenged. “Pardon, lying to him  _ again? _ ” And  _ that _ stung, so much that Eliot had to blink hard against the way his eyes prickled, but Margo softened at the sight of his obvious distress, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I just want you to get your due,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheekbone. “And let’s be real, after all the shit you’ve been through, you deserve a cuddly fantasy nerd if you want one. There should be a karmic contract somewhere covering that.”

“When have I ever gotten what I wanted, though?” Eliot shrugged, trying for light. “It’s not like I’m not used to it. Plus, it’s my own fault.”

“Fuck this,” Margo frowned. “You don’t get to blame yourself for one moment of weakness! Alice messed up way more than you did and she got another chance.”

“But she’s  _ Alice _ ,” Eliot stressed, rather bitterly. “There’s a difference. You know Q sets a different bar for her. Everyone would. That’s just the heteronormative society we live in. They are endgame.”

“Okay, I’m not listening to your pity-party, Waugh,” Margo sniped, straightening up. “I know you have deep-rooted and traumatic anxieties about your queerness because your father was a dick, but I’m not going to let you tell yourself that you don’t matter. That your  _ feelings _ don’t matter. Because Alice or no Alice, I know Quentin Coldwater cares about you and he would be appalled at all your Twilight-worthy emo bullshit right now.”

Eliot grimaced, feeling at least slightly chastened by her speech.

“You’d better get some sleep,” she muttered, kissing his forehead. “I promise the world will look a little bit brighter when you wake up, okay?”

“Fine,” Eliot sighed, closing his eyes. “But will you stay?”

“Until you fall asleep,” she promised. “But then I’ll go and get a fucking luxurious bath because I feel worse than that one time we partied for three days straight in London, baby.”

Eliot smiled softly, enjoying the way she continued stroking his hair as he began to drift off. 

***

“Coldwater!” Margo yelled, making Quentin sit up straight where he had been reclining on the windowsill, staring up at the high ceiling of Kady’s apartment. “Coldwater, get your ass here  _ right now!” _

She slammed the door shut behind herself and entered the apartment, looking ready to saw him down with one of the Sorrows. Quentin unconsciously moved back against the window plane behind him.

“What?” he asked, squeaky, and then an unbidden terrifying thought came upon him and he added, his voice cracking: “Is Eliot okay?”

She halted in her movements, her face softening a little. She looked at him for a long moment. “My God,” she muttered. “You boys are more repressed than Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stalking each other through book 6, aren’t you?”

“Um,” Quentin said, blinking. “What?”

She flailed her arms and took a seat at the three-piece suite, gesturing for Quentin to follow her. Quentin did so hesitantly, bundling himself up on the armchair while she stretched out her petite body on the love seat. 

“I’m only going to ask this once, Q,” she said, staring at him hard. “And you’d better answer right, or my opinion of you will drop by about 50 points.”

“Okay,” Quentin muttered. “So, no pressure.”

“Sadly, I can threaten you all you want, but it won’t change your answer on this. Not in the way that matters,” she grumbled. Then she heaved a sigh before looking him dead in the eye. “Q, do you love Eliot?”

Quentin’s heartbeat sped up at the words before he could chastise it. He cleared his throat, trying hard to keep his voice even.

“Of course I love him,” he said simply.

“That’s not what I mean,” she shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “I asked if you  _ love  _ him, Quentin. And I'm talking Kate and Leo in Titanic here, only without the self-sacrificing bullshit.”

Quentin stared, his mouth dry. Her eyes were far too knowing, and it felt as if they were piercing right through his heart and picking apart his feelings for Eliot right there on the table between them. He hadn’t felt this exposed in front of anyone since he had learned to guard his mind against Penny 40. 

When Quentin didn’t speak up, Margo continued, quite brusquely: “If you love him, which I suspect you do, you’d better quit dicking around with Alice. Let’s have an adult talk here. Eliot is vulnerable, and he needs you. So either you get your shit together, or you're going to break his heart. You need to get real about this.”

“I -” Quentin broke off with a choking noise, trying to breathe, but finding that there was no air. “What? But - he rejected  _ me _ !”

“That was countless months and a Monster possession ago, you dickhead!” she called, exasperated. “He got his priorities straightened out in the meantime. But he won’t tell you because he doesn’t want to be that kind of friend, and he would have my head if he knew I was having this talk with you but I’m not going to sit back and let him be miserable and self-destructive. I sat back for months and months, unable to help him. I’m done. This is something I can actually fix. I just need you to cooperate.” When Quentin still only sat, frozen, Margo glared at him. “Earth to Quentin? Are you still with me, or do I need to get fucking  _ bunnies _ to get the message through to you?!”

“No,” Quentin muttered, shaking his head. “I just -  _ fuck.” _

“Yeah,” Margo rolled her eyes. “Pretty much so.”

“I didn’t think he - he said we wouldn’t work!” Quentin burst out, feeling a little hysterical, and on the edge of a panic attack. “He said that wasn’t  _ us _ , not in this world, not when we had a choice! I didn’t think he would -”

“He was scared, Q,” Margo said, a little more gently. “You know Eliot. He runs when things get real.”

And he did. Quentin  _ knew _ this about him. He just hadn’t thought this applied to the matter of their non-existent relationship. He had taken Eliot’s words completely serious, because what else had he been supposed to do? 

And then Eliot had been gone for months, and Quentin had been so afraid to not ever get him back, even as a friend. And he had been so lonely, and Alice had been there, and she had  _ cared _ , and Quentin had just -

He hadn’t wanted to be hurting anymore. And sometimes, Alice had made it all go away. 

He hadn’t thought that it would make a difference, even  _ if _ they got Eliot back, but now Margo was looking at him like he had been inadvertently cheating on their best friend and damn if Quentin didn’t feel a little like he had. 

“Oh God,” Quentin muttered, sinking further into his armchair. “What am I going to  _ do?” _

“That depends on what you want to do,” Margo shrugged. “You have to choose. Eliot is under the impression you’d never choose him, so he won’t make you. But I think that’s stupid. You should know your options. So, here you are.” When there was no immediate answer forthcoming, she murmured, more to herself than to Quentin: “Wow, thank you, Margo, so very thoughtful of you. What a great friend you are.”

More silence filled the space between them. Margo sighed deeply, rubbing her knuckles across her brows. Quentin noted how bone-deep tired she looked. 

“Listen, Q,” she said, her voice kinder now. “I know this sucks, and you don’t want to hurt anyone. But it all comes down to whether you love El more, or whether you love Alice more. I realise you and Alice have this huge history, but there’s also a lot of fuck-ups involved. Let’s not pretend that a couple of weeks ago, you didn’t even want to see her face, and from what I gathered from Eliot, you were pretty eager to try things with him before the whole Monster disaster. So, are any of those feelings still there?”

Quentin couldn’t help it: He laughed. He knew he sounded slightly maniac, and Margo’s expression suggested as much, but he couldn’t help it. The question was just that  _ ridiculous _ .

“I spent  _ 50 years _ with Eliot, Margo,” Quentin pointed out. “I raised a child with him. We grew old together. I was with him when he died, and I buried him. Are you really asking me if I still love him?!” he took a shaky breath. “I’ll  _ always _ love him. This timeline we lived - it might be erased, but it was  _ real _ to me. And I can’t just forget loving someone like that. I couldn’t when Eliot rejected me, and I certainly can’t now.”

“Then you know what you have to do,” Margo shrugged, and she would have sounded dispassionate and uncaring, but her eyes were gentle. “You need to talk to Alice. Where is she, anyway?”

“At the library with Zelda,” Quentin replied, gulping. Margo grimaced.

“Well, I don’t envy you that conversation,” she shrugged, but she could have sounded more sympathetic, and Quentin figured he deserved that. He remained in his seat as she got to her feet. “Now excuse me, the bathtub is calling me.”

Quentin stared after her as she left, feeling a little forlorn. Unreasonably, he wished that Eliot was there. It was his stand-by emotion whenever he was upset, missing Eliot, and now that he was actually back and attainable, the feeling was all the stronger. 

But his thoughts travelled back to the way Eliot had clung to him the moment he had woken up, trying to reach for him through his pain, only to let go the moment Alice had returned to his side. The realisation made Quentin sick. The last thing he’d wanted was to hurt Eliot. He hadn’t thought he had the power to do so, but now that he knew, he needed to fix it. Desperately. 

So he braced himself and waited for Alice to return.

The conversation with Alice was, mildly put, a fight the size of a middle-sized tropical cyclone. Quentin stayed silent through most of the fall-out and let her yell at him, knowing he’d fully deserved her wrath. The last time their relationship had fallen apart, he might have been known to fight back, but this time, he wasn’t even going to put up any pretence. 

Then again, this time,  _ he _ was the one breaking up with  _ her _ , not the other way around. 

Also, it hadn’t escaped Alice’s notice that once again, Eliot was involved in their break-up. 

“What is it with you and him?” she called. “Should I have known back then? Has this been building up ever since?”

“Alice,  _ I _ didn’t know back then,” Quentin pointed out. “I swear, if I had, this might have been easier.”

“Oh? Because you could have stopped giving a shit about me back then?” she challenged, clearly stung.

“No!” Quentin called. “That’s not what I meant. I loved you, Alice. None of that was a lie, and I don’t regret feeling that way. I  _ liked _ feeling that way. That was the whole point of getting back together with you. It’s just -” he took an unsteady breath, holding it for a moment, before admitting: “What El and I have been through… It leaves a mark. I thought -  _ hoped _ I could move past it, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“So I was, what?” Alice asked, her voice brittle. “A pass time until Eliot returned?”

“No,” Quentin shook his head. “I honestly didn’t think Eliot and I had a future together.”

“But you wouldn’t have chosen me had you known,” she pointed out, not phrasing it as a question. Quentin didn’t answer, and it didn’t seem like Alice needed him to. 

“I really am sorry,” Quentin told her, voice as raw as his soul. “I think the last couple of months just - they screwed with my head. I shouldn’t have led you on. I feel horrible. I’d like to think we can stay friends, but I know that under the circumstances -”

“Yeah,” Alice interrupted, shaking her head. “Maybe someday, when I stopped being mad at you, but… not like this.”

And that was that. Alice moved out of Kady’s apartment the same night. Zelda Schiff had offered her quarters along with her new position at the library, and she figured now was as good a time as ever to take her up on that. Quentin tried not to fall into an abyss of loneliness as he watched her leave, the guilt gnawing at him like an actual, sentient being. It wasn’t until Margo’s nimble fingers ran through his hair, one arm slinging around his shoulders in an affectionate gesture that he snapped out of his thoughts. 

“You did the right thing, kiddo,” she soothed. “It wasn’t the easy thing, I know, but it’s only going to get better from now on. I promise.”

Quentin nodded. It was hard to feel the weight of her words at the moment, but he could only hope they were true.

Quentin slept on the couch that night, unable to face his empty room. He was woken up the next morning by Margo setting down a plate of buttered toast in front of him.

“Levántase, Señor!” she called cheerfully. “Eat your fill, get into the shower and then off with you to the hospital! You have a strapping young man to confess to!”

Quentin blinked up at her, his insides feeling likes snakes worming their way through his stomach. He eyed the toast doubtfully. Margo rolled her eyes. 

“ _ Boys _ ,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you have anything to be afraid of, sadsack! You know he loves you! Just get over there and make sure he doesn’t make a run for it again or gets possessed by another mass-murdering monster -”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Quentin hissed.

“I’m not,” Margo sniped, glaring at him. “Now, get a move on, because I’m not beyond dragging you.”

***

When Eliot woke up this time, it was to gentle fingers tracing his cheekbone, a light touch right below where his eyelashes met. He drowsily blinked his eyes open, needing a moment to adjust to the bright daylight.

He didn’t feel as numb and drugged as he’d felt the last time he had woken, nor was he in as much pain as the first time. Mostly he felt well-rested, though his body was still aching where it was healing. 

“El?” A gentle voice muttered, catching his attention. He turned his head, drawn to the familiar tone like a moth to the light, only to look into Quentin’s gentle brown eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he muttered, clearing his throat when his voice didn’t come out quite right. “I think the healing spells are working.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Quentin breathed, gnawing on his bottom lip. 

Eliot smiled, unable to help himself. Like this, with just the two of them, and Quentin gazing down at him like he’s the only thing that matters in the whole world, it was easy to forget that this wasn’t real. That they weren’t back in their erased timeline and Eliot had just caught the flu and Quentin was taking care of him. 

“So,” Quentin spoke up, eventually, breaking Eliot’s happy little bottle. “Margo suggested that we… talk.”

And with that, Eliot froze, his face hardening. He turned his gaze away, directing his eyes up towards the ceiling. He would  _ murder _ Margo for this. 

“I don’t know what she -” he began, but Quentin cut him off, words bursting out of him with such a force that it took Eliot a moment to register them.

“I broke up with Alice.”

Eliot blinked. Stared at the ceiling some more. Gulped. Then, he finally turned his head to face Quentin again, who looked like he was on the edge of his seat, ready to run, but at the same time he had that look on his face, the one that he’d had when he’d told Eliot “Why the fuck not?”, and Eliot felt himself breaking open. 

“What?” he breathed.

“I broke up with Alice,” Quentin repeated, a little breathless. “When I got back together with her, I just… You can’t imagine what it was like, El. You had been gone for  _ months.  _ I had been forced to play nice with the Monster in your body, to do horrible things for it, all to make sure it doesn’t hurt you. I had to look at your face every day, knowing it wasn’t  _ you.  _ I missed you so fucking bad. And all this time, I never knew if I would actually get you back. It was all too much, at some point. And Alice was there, and she cared, and I just… I broke. I just didn’t want to feel the pain anymore. And part of me thought it didn’t matter anyway, because even if you returned, it’s not like you loved me back.”

Eliot gulped, blinking against the rush of tears threatening to crash down on him. He didn’t have any  _ right _ to break down crying, damn it.  _ He _ had messed this up. 

“But Margo said… well… if you…” Quentin drifted off, sounding unsure again. “Maybe I was wrong? And if I was, I want to fix this, El. Because..” He didn’t continue, fighting for words, but that was okay. Eliot figured it was now his turn to speak, anyway. 

“I was a fucking coward, Q,” Eliot hissed, his fingers fisting the sheets. “You were so brave, and I just… I ran. And I hurt you. And I’ve regretted it ever since, but especially when I was stuck in my own head, unsure if I was ever going to see you again. I cannot tell you how much I wanted to make this right again. How I’ve been wanting to tell you the moment I woke up - but…”

“But then I was with Alice…” Quentin nodded, those lovely brown eyes swimming with tears now as well. “Fuck, El. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay - I - will you let me do it now?” Eliot asked, impatiently wiping at his own eyes, willing himself not to break down. Not before he had done this properly.

Quentin reached out to run his own thumb across his cheekbone and the corner of his eye, gently wiping away the excess moisture, and nodded. Eliot took a shaky breath, his own hand coming up to cover Quentin’s, keeping it on his face as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Q,” Eliot whispered. “What we had - it was real and beautiful, and I was afraid to grasp it. Maybe because I thought that I would break it as soon as I tried. I’m still not quite sure that I won’t, to be honest. I’m good at breaking things. But I know now that I want to  _ try _ , Q. Because there’s no one I could be happier with than you, and I  _ want _ to be happy. I want us  _ both  _ to be happy, like we were in that erased timeline, only without anyone getting in between us. I think it’s time for us to stop looking left and right and focus on each other. Because I love you, Q, and I want to be yours. Is that something you could get on board with?”

Quentin had been silent throughout his entire speech, but at that last question, he snorted, very softly, before his face broke out into a wide grin. 

“You idiot,” he told him off in an impossibly fond voice, and Eliot’s heart hurt so much that it might have been sliced open by one of Margo’s axes as well. “I’ve been on board with that for about a year now. Or fifty, come to think of it. I don’t want anyone but you, El. Not when I have a choice.”

Eliot couldn’t help but press his eyes shut at Quentin’s last words, couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. He only opened them again when gentle lips kissed his cheeks where the tears had wet them. 

It felt like a natural progression for Eliot to lift his chin and arch his neck until he could fit their lips together, and when they were finally kissing, it was like coming home. Quentin smelled like cheap drugstore shampoo and aftershave, and Eliot could taste the peppermint from his toothpaste in his kiss, all things that were different from the mosaic timeline, but the way Quentin kissed him, that hadn’t changed. All emotion and unbundled enthusiasm with a gentle edge to it, making Eliot feel like he was bleeding out from the inside, but in a cathartic sort of way. He fitted his hand to Quentin’s neck, grasping onto the strands of his too-short hair and holding him in place as he deepened the kiss, unable to get enough. 

When they finally broke apart, Eliot’s chest was heaving with exertion, and Quentin glanced at him a little worriedly as he settled their foreheads against each other's.

“I’m fine,” Eliot assured him. “Just not up to form yet.”

“Right,” Quentin nodded, brushing their noses together. “Well, you have all the time in the world. I’m just happy to have you back.”

“I’m sorry for everything I put you through,” Eliot whispered.

“It’s all in the past,” Quentin shook his head. He pressed another short kiss to Eliot’s lips and breathed: “We can heal together now.”

And at that, Eliot smiled, letting himself fall into the comfort of Quentin’s proximity. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” he nodded.

***

When Quentin returned from movie night with Julia, it was to find Eliot sprawled out over Margo’s lap on the sofa, the two of them rewatching Charmed and having a lazy discussion about whether any of those charms would work in real life, with some alterations. Quentin grinned as he divested himself of shoes and jacket and joined them, claiming the empty armchair.

“Hello to you,” Eliot grinned brightly at him, making grabby hands from where his head was pillowed on Margo’s thighs. “Why are you so far away? Come here!”

“You might as well squeeze in,” Margo chuckled, nodding at the far corner of the sofa that was barely free when Eliot pulled in his knees. “I’m taking off to Fillory after this episode, and your boyfriend is very cuddly today.”

“I’m allowed to be cuddly,” Eliot announced. “I was possessed by an evil monster for months.”

“At some point, this excuse will stop earning you cookie points,” Margo pointed out, but she was grinning at Quentin, who was already climbing over Eliot’s too long legs. “Pushover.”

“You’re both pushovers for me,” Eliot sighed in satisfaction, lifting his feet so Quentin could get comfortable before resting his bare feet in his lap. Quentin caught them with his hands, gently tracing his ankles - the only place where Eliot’s feet weren’t ticklish. 

He allowed himself a moment to steal a glance at his boyfriend’s profile. Eliot had returned his attention to the TV, commenting on one of Paige’s outfits, and Quentin couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. 

The last weeks hadn’t been easy. Eliot’s recovery had been a long and hard one, and it had come with tons of emotional baggage for both of them. There had been moments when one or both of them had lost the fight against the darkness within them, but thankfully, there had always been someone there to pick them up again - if not the other, then Margo, or Julia, or even Kady or Penny 23 in an unexpected display of empathy. They were not alone, and slowly, they had clawed their way back into life. 

Eliot looked up again, as if sensing his eyes on him, and smiled gently at Quentin, raising an eyebrow in question. Quentin shook his head, squeezing his ankle. Their moment was broken by Margo groaning and unceremoniously shoving Eliot’s head off her lap.

“If you two are going to start eye-fucking now, I’ll leave. I could have actual sex and not be a bystander, thank you very much.”

“Suit yourself,” Eliot snorted, pulling his feet out of Quentin’s lap and squirming around, changing positions until his head was pillowed there instead. “For your information, it would be the show of a lifetime.”

“Babe, I’ve seen it, remember?” she snorted. “Not that it wasn’t hot and all, but you’ve become too domestic for me since.”

“My god, please, stop,” Quentin moaned, horrified. Eliot patted his cheek consolingly, and Margo only laughed. 

"It's not my fault Eliot shares everything with me," she snorted as she slipped into her killer high heels. "And if I remember correctly, you were an enthusiastic participant."

"Okay, enough teasing the Q," Eliot announced, chuckling as he leaned up to press a soft kiss to Quentin's lips. "Don't make him combust."

"Aw, but I like teasing the Q," Margo pouted. "You don't let me have any nice things."

Eliot propped himself up on his elbows to very maturely stick his tongue out at her. Margo rolled her eyes but grinned as she waved her goodbyes, finally leaving them to their own devices. 

"The woman is a menace," Eliot announced, dropping his head back in Quentin's lap.

"And you love her, anyway," Quentin laughed. 

"Of course I do," Eliot shrugged, his hazel eyes dancing with mirth. "But that doesn't make her less of a terror."

Quentin grinned and before he could overthink the action, he leaned in to kiss Eliot deeply. The other made a soft, appreciative noise against his lips and sunk into the caress, quickly losing himself in it, and it made Quentin feel strangely powerful, the fact that he could make Eliot Waugh all hazy and dazed with a simple kiss. And indeed, when he pulled away, Eliot stared up at him like he'd been hit with some kind of spell that left him both extremely blissed and completely out of his depths. It was intoxicating. 

"Hey, you," Quentin said softly, unnecessarily, but it made Eliot smile despite its redundancy. 

"Hey," Eliot breathed. "How was the movie? Did Simba show that bitch Scar?" 

"He sure did," Quentin grinned. 

"Hakuna Matata."

"You're ridiculous."

"You love me."

Quentin chuckled, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. "God help me," he muttered against them, "but I do."

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop me a comment or two if you'd like to cheer me up, I'd really appreciate it :3 If you'd like to follow my multifandom ramblings on twitter, you can find me under @IntoBlondPrats :)


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